


you've just got to say, it's alright

by Tanni



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 23:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2751044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanni/pseuds/Tanni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick should probably ring Harry’s assistant, she might know what to do. Unless she doesn’t and will just assume Nick is very drunk. Or pranking her for the benefit of national radio. Both seem more plausible as scenarios than the reality of the situation.</p>
<p>Or, the one where Harry is a manatee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've just got to say, it's alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alongthewatchtower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alongthewatchtower/gifts).



> This fills the prompt 'not-completely-human!harry. run wild' and I really did. I apologize in advance for being ridiculous!  
> Thanks to [A. T. Quinn](atquinn.wordpress.com) for peer pressuring me into writing stories about manatees and to [nothinginfinite](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nothinginfinite/pseuds/nothinginfinite) for proofreading. Any remaining mistakes are my own.  
> (This is a work of fiction, any resemblance these characters have to real people is totally a coincidence, I swear.)

It takes Nick a while to realise that he’s been dusting the same spot on the mantle for the past few minutes. And there’s no reason for him to behave like a complete idiot. Nick knows this, he really does. But he hasn’t seen Harry in a long time, what with him always swanning off to America these days. And it’s not as if Harry even cares if there’s a bit of dust on the mantle; Nick just really needs to do something with his hands. So what if Nick has vacuumed three times this morning. He has a dog, people who have dogs need to vacuum more often.

“Come here, Pig Dog.” He smiles, crouching down and rubbing the dog’s belly when she immediately flops over for him, her tail wagging against the floor. “So needy for it.” He kind of knows how Pig feels though. They’re just mates, him and Harry, mates who snog on the couch sometimes when they’ve had a few, but Nick can feel his skin buzzing with anticipation anyway. God, he’s a mess.

“Now Pig, go in the bedroom while the grown ups talk, alright?” He scoops her up, carrying her down the hall. “And if you don’t eat my pillows, you’ll get a treat later, deal?” He suspects Pig doesn’t really understand human speech, he hasn’t ever been inside an animal’s head, but he figures he should at least try to reason with her. He’s down to his last pillow.

He definitely doesn’t run when the doorbell rings. At most, it’s a mild jog from the bedroom to the front door. "Hiya." Nick smiles as he throws open the door. Harry smiles back, his hands stuffed deeply into the pockets of his coat, like he’s not used to being back in dreary London quite yet. Nick can’t really blame him for preferring to be by the California coast.

Harry looks good, his skin a little darker and his hair a little lighter. Nick tries not to picture him on some sunny beach, letting the salt of the ocean bite at him. It doesn’t work very well. “Hey. I didn’t bring anything, sorry. I was gonna stop on the way, but I didn’t tell the driver and then I fell asleep …” He trails off with a shrug.

“That’s what you get for jetsetting all around the globe, Harold. Luckily for you, I have plenty of wine given to me by people who are better friends than you.” He hums, considering. “Or possibly they all think I’m a lush.” He grins at Harry, who grins back as he kicks off his boots and flops down on Nick’s sofa. It’s a little bit ridiculous, the way Nick’s lungs seem to expand. He’s missed this.

He puts a bottle of wine as well as a pitcher of water on the coffee table, because they're both apparently trying to be healthy and not complete lushes these days. And Nick does try, but he really hates drinking water on the sofa at night - water is for the gym and for curing hangovers only, everything else feels unnatural.

“Don’t look so depressed.” Harry is grinning at Nick, who was apparently glowering at the pitcher a bit too obviously. “Water’s healthy for you. Also, I’m going to need it to stay hydrated. Fucking planes, Nick, I swear. They want me to shrivel into a human date. Or is it a fig?” Harry frowns, before shrugging and taking a big gulp of his water. “The shriveled thing that’s not raisins. Though I guess raisins work too...”

“Focus, Harry.” Nick snaps his fingers in front of Harry’s face, grinning when Harry looks up at him and smiles, relaxing. “Hello, and welcome back from your tangent.”

“Sorry.” Harry’s smiling quietly. “So show me this new dog. I keep hearing about it but I won’t believe you until I see her with my own eyes.”

“I put her in the bedroom so she wouldn’t jump all over you, she’s probably torn the place apart by now. Here, Pig Dog.” Nick hums soothingly as he walks down the hall and opens the bedroom door and Pig comes tearing out, barking excitedly at this new company.

“She’s not even wearing a tiara or anything. I thought she’d look more spoiled that this. Hello, Pig the Dog.” Harry hides a smile, scratching Pig’s ears gently while Pig sniffs excitedly at Harry’s jeans. Nick gets it, Harry’s jeans often baffle him, too.

“I try not to spoil her too much, but she’s a teenage girl, you know teenage girls. They do not take no for an answer.” Nick grins, moving to the cupboard to grab Pig’s treats. “Come here, Pig.” The dog obeys for once, and in a giant leap Nick didn’t think his dog was capable of she jumps over Harry and half the coffee table.

The water and the wine both go flying, arcing through the air in a way that makes Nick briefly appreciate physics or science or whatever this is. Then everything lands squarely in Harry’s lap, and it’s much less great.

“Bad Pig!” Nick scolds, getting to his feet. Harry’s frozen in time and space, staring down at his shirt and trousers. Nick tries not to think about how much his outfit probably costs, and what the dry cleaning bill will be for getting red wine out of silk and leather. “Sorry. Hold on, I’ll get you a towel.”

“It’s fine, it’s just. A lot of water.” Harry wrinkles his forehead like he’s focusing. Or maybe he’s thinking about the bill too. Nick hurries into the kitchen to fetch a dish towel. In the living room, Harry sneezes. 

“Bless you!” he shouts, stepping back into the living room. The towel slips from his fingers as he skids to a halt. He doesn’t remember having that much wine.

For a long moment, he just stares at the manatee lying halfway on the sofa where Harry was sitting half a minute ago. Nick doesn’t really know what the appropriate response is, but he sort of wants to follow Pig’s example and run from the room. Maybe also dig a hole in the backyard to bury himself in, so this isn’t something he has to deal with.

He looks up, stupidly checking to see if there’s a hole in his ceiling that a manatee could have fallen through, perhaps crushing Harry in the process. Even as he’s doing it, he realizes that his upstairs neighbours probably don’t have a pet manatee he’s unaware of, but somehow he can’t stop himself from making sure.

“Harry?”

“Fweet,” chirps the manatee. Nick suspects he may be having a nervous breakdown. The manatee - Harry? - waves one arm. Or is it a fin? Nick was always terrible at biology.

“Right. Hello,” Nick says weakly. “You alright, then?”

"Fweet," says Harry. He’s looking at Nick and blinking slowly with his manatee eyes. Up close, he almost looks like he’s smiling.

Nick blinks. Alright, so Harry is a manatee, which is inconvenient; but at least Harry hasn’t been murdered by one, so this is still the far superior alternative.

"Fweeeeeet," repeats Harry when Nick stays silent, looking slightly panicked for a manatee.

"Oh, hell. Do you need water? D’you need me to carry you to the shower or something?" He stands up, waving his hands nervously. He doesn't really know if he can carry a manatee all the way to his bathroom. Harry makes for a fairly small manatee but he’s still bigger than human Harry was, and to be honest Nick's been skipping arm days at the gym a lot. “You probably want a bit of wet, right? Shower then.”

“Fweet,” Harry chirps, sagging a little.

Nick doesn't know what he means, but he lugs Harry to the shower as best he can, cursing all the way until he can turn on the water and let Harry flop to the floor. He doesn’t completely fit inside the shower cabin, so his rump ends up sticking out despite Nick’s best pushing and shoving. Harry makes an offended noise but otherwise seems quite content. 

"Right. Um." Nick doesn't really know what to do, besides take a picture to show Fiona tomorrow morning. Is he going to stay this way? Does he need to poke Harry back into human shape somehow? He doesn't really feel comfortable poking Harry the manatee anywhere else that might be considered inappropriate.

"Do you, uh. Want some food? Do you eat fish? No fish? How about like, shrimp?" Nick offers uselessly, desperately trying to remember what's in his fridge. Manatees probably don't eat pesto that may or may not be slightly off. "Oh! I can get sushi delivered!"

Harry-the-manatee gives him a very amused Harry-the-human look. "Fweet," he states, and it sounds a little bit like “you’re an idiot”.

"Oh alright, tune it down.” Nick makes a face. Harry just blinks at him with his big, dark eyes that don’t look like his regular ones at all. “Fine. But I'm getting sushi anyway." Nick grimaces at him, but sits down on the toilet bowl next to the shower and googles "what do manatees eat". He looks at the search results and thinks he can maybe get away with lettuce and celery, he just needs to go buy some.

“Okay. Alright. Don’t go anywhere.” Nick hesitates. “Not that I suppose you would, being a manatee and all. But just, stay there while I go get some things.”

He all but races outside and is halfway to Tesco’s when he realises he’s left his wallet, so he has to double back for it. His head is feeling a bit woolly, with different tracks seemingly all going at different speeds. He doesn’t know what to do, and if maybe he should call someone. He should probably ring Harry’s assistant, she might know what to do. Unless she doesn’t and will just assume Nick is very drunk. Or pranking her for the benefit of national radio. Both seem more plausible as scenarios than the reality of the situation.

He waits as the cashier rings up the celery and the lettuce, giving him a strange look when he almost drops the shopping bag on his way out. He barely even notices, he’s far too busy worrying. He has no idea if this is a common occurrence, is the thing. What if this hasn’t happened before, what if Harry is stuck this way? Maybe someone’s put a curse on him or something. It sounds crazy, but so does this whole thing.

Something dawns on Nick, and it makes a sickening feeling spread throughout his insides. Who will look after Harry if he ends up stuck this way? What will happen to his career? Will the media just say he went missing? “God, Sugarscape will have a bloody meltdown.” Nick shakes his head as he lets himself back into the flat. He gives the crystals Sadie gave him a poke with his toe when he passes them. He wonders if they can help against sea-mammal-related curses.

By the time Nick enters the bathroom, Harry’s eyes are closed and he’s making soft, grunting noises under the luke warm spray. Nick supposes he’s having a little manatee snore.

Harry opens one eye when Nick steps in though, letting out a happy squeak like he didn’t think Nick was coming back again.

“Of course I came back,” Nick says before he can help himself. “You’re only a manatee, Harold. No big deal.” He hides a smile. “Not gonna leave you to starve, am I?”

“Fweet,” Harry says happily, shifting about under the spray.

Nick shakes his head, sitting down on the toilet again because apparently this is his life now. He’s sitting on a toilet talking to a manatee who’s the man he fancies. More than fancies, he guesses, since Harry just recently turned into a large sea mammal and instead of running for the hills screaming, Nick went out to buy him some bloody celery.

The thought is a bit scary, so he pushes it away. He can have a nice post-traumatic panic attack later. Instead, he gives Harry what he hopes is a casual smirk. Harry chirps back at him. “That is a ridiculous sound, Harold. I thought you would, I don’t know, moo or something? Aren’t manatees called sea cows?” 

“Fweet,” chirps Harry, insulted.

“I’m just saying! I’m not judging or anything. I just assumed you would make a less ridiculous noise, is all. You know, all those days when I thought about you being a manatee. Which, by the way, thank you for telling me.”

Harry squeaks sadly. Nick’s heart clenches a bit, and he feels bad for being a sarcastic arse. He doesn’t suppose it’s an easy thing to tell your friends. Or anyone, really.

“Sorry,” he says softly, moving closer to pet Harry’s head for a bit. “I got you some greens if you want them. I know how you like to eat healthy these days,” he quips lightly and smiles at Harry. Harry, who’s watching him so intently with his strangely dark manatee eyes that Nick’s suddenly not sure what to say. That doesn’t really happen to him often. Or at all.

A sigh escapes Nick like a punctured tire. “Fuck, I wish you could speak, Harry. Even if it’s in your ridiculous manatee-voice, which, let me tell you, would not have got you signed by Simon Cowell. No offence.” He smiles faintly up at Harry, who’s waving his head back and forth slowly, eyes closed under the falling water. He doesn’t look unhappy.

Nick clears his throat, looking down intently. “Anyway, so, I’m not sure what’s going on. I may be having a nervous breakdown, I mean I may already be in a mental facility, hallucinating all of this in my straight jacket like in that terrible film we saw. But just in case this is all too real, and you’re gonna be a manatee from now on, you can stay here if you like. With me and Pig. I’ll have the garden made into a pool, yeah? Well, most of the garden. Pig needs a place to poo in the mornings, sorry. But I’ll look after you, alright? I’ll tell Collette to come check on you when I’m on the radio.”

He looks up after a long moment of silence, because it’s not like he was expecting an answer, but maybe a ‘fweet’ to show Nick that Harry understands would be nice. If he even understands.

There’s no manatee. Instead, Harry is sitting on the shower tiles, his hair a wet bedraggled mess in his face as the water beats down on him. He blinks a little, before pushing his hair back.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles, shaking his head as if to clear it.

Nick stands up and then thinks better of it when his vision goes staticy at the edges. Sitting is definitely the superior option. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing, actually. You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Harry peers up at him, the back of his head tipped against the shower wall. He’s shivering slightly. “I’m quite naked, though,” he says slowly, drawing in his legs a little. “I think my clothes must still be in your living room.”

“Oh.” Nick blinks. He hadn’t even realised, but he is now. He gets up and studiously looks at the wall. “I’ll go get them,” he says quickly, hurrying out. Harry’s clothes are in fact in a rumpled little pile next to Nick’s sofa. He hadn’t even noticed them earlier - though in Nick’s defence, the manatee on his sofa proved a bit of a distraction. Pig has apparently got over her earlier terror, and has made herself a little nest with Harry’s shirt, no doubt doing hundreds of pounds worth of damage to it. Nick carefully frees it from her tiny clutches, trying to rub the creases and dog hair out of it, to no avail.

“So,” he says as he steps back into the bathroom and puts the clothes on a little pile next to the shower cabin. “This has happened before, I take it.” He pauses, keeping his back to Harry and his eyes on the wall as Harry gets dressed. The steam has covered the wall in tiny drops of condensation. “The lack of you freaking out and shouting kind of gives it away.”

“Yeah. A few times.” Harry sighs, coming around and sitting on the lid of the toilet seat beside Nick, looking up at him. "It started during the last tour. Called my Mum after the first time and apparently my great grandad had the same thing after he went to Brazil. And it’s not that much of a problem. I mean, the water sets me off but I'm already getting quite good at controlling it. But I had to sneeze." Harry frowns like he's disappointed with himself.

"You had to sneeze, and it turned you into a manatee?" Nick cocks an eyebrow at him, trying very hard to keep a straight face and not succeeding very well.

"Shut up. It's embarrassing, alright?" Harry shakes his head, dimpling at him. Nick's so happy Harry has his own body back, his heart feels like it’s swelling three sizes.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed, we all have a thing,” Nick says on a shrug. “I get splotchy skin when I drink too much red wine, and apparently you’re a manatee.”

Harry makes a face. “I’m still me. I’m not a manatee, not always anyway. It’s more like... I’m a were-manatee.”

"A were-manatee. Like a werewolf?"

"Yeah but like, not a wolf. A _manatee_ , Nick." Harry gives him a deeply solemn look. He’s definitely himself again if he’s already taking the piss, Nick thinks.

He rolls his eyes, hiding a grin. "Yes, I'd got that far, Styles. Thanks."

“I just mean, it has happened a few times, but it’s getting less weird and I always turn back really fast, so it’s less scary now. It was pretty terrifying the first time. Now I know I just have to wait until it wears off.” Harry shakes his head slowly, as if he’s remembering how it felt. Nick has no idea how scary that must have been for him, how disoriented and helpless he must have felt. He hopes someone else was with him when it happened, but at the same time he doesn’t want to ask. It may be childish, but he might get an answer he doesn’t want to hear. There is something else he’s curious about though.

“So you can understand and remember everything people tell you while you’re… not you?” Nick blinks. He wonders if it’s the same for Pig. He hopes she wasn’t just being a bratty teenager when he told her not to wee on the rug and she did anyway.

“Yeah. And I’m still me, just. Differently shaped. And I really like water. And I get _really_ hungry.”

“Oh. Are you hungry now? I got you all those greens.” Nick sits up, but Harry makes a face and shakes his head.

“No, thank you. I think I’d like a nice omelette though, I can make us both one, maybe?” He hides a smile. “We can have Bloody Marys if it helps you get rid of some of the celery.” He pauses, chewing his lip and watching Nick curiously.

“You’re making me nervous, Styles,” Nick says because he has no filter when he’s nervous. “What is it?”

“Were you really going to take me in?” Harry’s voice has gone quieter than before, and he’s looking like he’s worried what the answer may be. Nick has no idea why.

“Of course, who wouldn’t want to share their flat with a large mammal of the oceans, Harold? Fiona could help out, she weirdly enjoys stuff like that. And Pig would love a playmate. You could join her in the garden.” He’s joking, but Harry’s still watching him like Nick is a puzzle. He sighs. “Yeah. Why not. Someone would have to look after you, wouldn’t they? Can’t really do your own shopping as a manatee, can you?” He shrugs it off and looks down at Pig napping on the rug, so he’s unprepared when Harry climbs into his lap and kisses him hard

Nick blinks but kisses back because he’s not a complete idiot - also, Harry’s not taking no for an answer. He’s kissing like he’s trying to say all the things he was unable to voice earlier. Nick makes a soft sound and pulls Harry closer, one hand finding Harry’s back, mucking up the shirt some more, and the other reaching up to cup the back of Harry head, his jaw, the line of his throat. He doesn’t have hands enough to touch Harry everywhere he wants to touch him. He just needs to make sure Harry’s really here. All those months in America and Nick had never been scared of never seeing him again until just now.

“Stop it, you’ll make me ticklish.” Harry smiles quietly against Nick’s mouth, nipping at his lower lip. He’s still cold and shivery in Nick’s arms. But then Nick is feeling a bit shivery himself… “You wouldn’t even know what to do, Nick. God. What do you even know about manatees?” Harry says when he finally pulls back, shaking his head. Harry’s hair is still wet and soaking the top of his already ruined shirt but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

Nick frantically tries to kick his brain back into gear. “I know celery, Harold. Give me _some_ credit. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. Like you said, it’s still you and I know you, don’t I?” Nick smiles shakily because Harry is still in his lap and he’s not sure how to appropriately respond. “I know you always need to feel warm. I know you can drink more than you humanly should be able to.” He raises an eyebrow, and Harry laughs. “So I’d figure it out.”

“Yeah, I think you probably would.” Harry’s watching him again, but not kissing him. Nick misses the kissing, but he settles for petting Harry’s hair again in a strange echo of earlier.

"God, I'm so glad your face is your face again. Manatees? Not that sexy." He makes a face.

Harry grins wide. "You think my regular face is sexy?"

"Average. Average amounts of sexy," Nick says quickly. “You know, for an average face.”

“Mhm,” Harry lets out an unconvinced hum, his chest still pressed to Nick’s, and it vibrates through him.

Harry, as it turns out, is _really_ happy to have the full use of his limbs back. Nick never knew he was this flexible, he thinks as he pads into the kitchen a few hours later, reaching around and rubbing at his back absently. He makes them both a cup of tea and carries them back to the bedroom.

Outside, it’s begun to rain, a steady clatter against the bedroom window. Nick yawns, climbing back into bed before closing his eyes and letting it lull him to sleep.

“Where was that rain two hours ago, hm? Could have just dragged you outside and been done with you,” he murmurs, smiling. He can feel Harry shift closer, his lips brushing the shell of Nick’s ear. It makes him shiver.

“You’re so rude.” Harry’s voice is a low rumble, a little earthquake rolling over Nick’s skin. He’d been so worried he would never hear Harry’s voice again.

“That’s me. Terrible, through and through. Nooo, Pig, get off.” He groans and opens his eyes when Pig jumps onto the bed with them. Harry’s sitting upright, sipping his tea and studying Nick in a way that causes another little earthquake under his skin.

“Hey,” Harry says, peering at Nick over the edge of his mug. “Hey, Nick.”

“What?” Nick groans and rolls over to face him better. “You’re so high maintenance,” he adds, but it comes out sounding like, “I’m so fond of you.”

Harry just holds up his mug. “Man-a-tea.” He grins.

Nick throws a pillow at his head.


End file.
